


A heist a day keeps the feelings at bay

by sterekanigans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Hale pack vs McCall pack, Heist fic, M/M, Sexual Tension, criminal rivalry, criminal!Derek, criminal!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekanigans/pseuds/sterekanigans
Summary: Never let it be said that being a criminal was easy. No, no, far from the glamorous life the movies would have you believe. Throw into the equation a rival criminal who is intent on taking all your targets? Stiles’ career as a multi-million-dollar criminal has been threatened ever since Derek goddamn Hale entered the scene one long, painful year ago.And he’s ready to set the record straight.Or the one where everyone is a criminal and Stiles and Derek have an insane amount of sexual tension.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightlight9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlight9/gifts).



> For the 2016 Eternal Sterek Secret Gift Exchange!!!  
> To nighlight9, Merry Christmas and enjoy! Hopefully this can make you smile and add an extra little cheer to your day!

**A heist a day keeps the feelings at bay.**

“Do we have eyes on the target?”

A crackling voice came over the com. “Affirmative. I’ve got eyes on the Eagle.”

“Good job Lyds. What about you Scott- where’s our Fat Controller at?”

“Still at the restaurant with bimbo number 3. Looks like he’s… oh great he’s trying to feed her his crab, and that’s not an innuendo. Seriously, why do I have to be the one stuck here on watch-the-most-awkward-date-ever duty?” Scott groaned. “This is seriously the most boring date ever. Why is she still here? Why hasn’t she run for the hills like a sane person?”

“Because he’s a multi-millionaire with only a few years left on the clock?” replied Lydia crisply.“And you’re stuck on watchout duty because you didn’t do the dishes last week. Again. Because you were with Kira. All. Night.”

“Are we all clear Lyds?” Stiles interrupted. “Because as fascinating as Scott and Kira’s sex life is, our rich old dude is going to get bored eventually and come back, and I would really like to get my hands on that sweet, sweet Eagle.”

There was a pause as Lydia presumably did a final sweep of the security cameras, from where she was sitting calmly in the security room.

“We’re good to go.”

“Alright team, you heard her! Hawkeye and Fox, you guys in position?”

“For the last time, I refuse to be called Hawkeye.” Allison said threateningly. “But yes, Kira and I are in position by the north courtyard.”

“Entering now. See you in the dining room in two.” Stiles thought he could hear Kira unsheathing her deadly katana over the com.

“See you soon.” Stiles gave a nod even though he knew no-one was around to see, then threw a wink to the nearest security camera, the red light blinking down at him innocently. Wish me luck, he mouthed.

He could hear Lydia’s reply in his mind. _There is no such thing as luck. Only skill._

Adjusting the black skivie covering his face, he hopped off the table he was perched on and walked lightly across the room.

He nudged open the pale yellow door to the kitchen- ugh what was with this guy’s colour co-ordination? It so did not match the sky blue walls. Orange would have been a much choice if you asked him- and silently crept into the adjoining hallway.

From there, he moved through three other hallways- this house would have been sick for hide and seek- before he finally found himself in the dining room.

Ornately framed portraits and landscapes decorated the walls and Stiles stared wishfully at them. In particular, he was drawn towards a portrait of a man with a strong jaw game, which was artfully dusted with stubble. His eyes were positively smouldering, and whilst his gaze fell to the side, Stiles could feel the intensity of that brooding.

He reached his hand out in an aborted motion, leaving it hovering in mid-air in front of the painting.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise. One day,” he whispered mournfully to the painting. It would be a wonderful addition to his private collection. Too bad they couldn’t tip off their Fat Controller that he had been robbed. If all went to plan, it would be at least a few days before he realised, by which time Stiles and his team would be long gone, the Eagle sold to the highest bidder for a couple of million.

In the background, Stiles thought he heard the sound of a door being softly opened. He shook his head- he was getting paranoid.

Stiles’ com spat back to life. “In position,” Kira whispered. “All clear on the north side of the kitchen.”

“All clear in the courtyard,” added Allison.

“Right, let’s do this.” Stiles strode forward until he reached a delicate oil painting of two boys by a lake. He felt carefully around the edges, searching.

“Aha!” He pressed down on the small button, stepping back as the painting swung inwards to reveal a small room. Well, that was being generous- it was barely bigger than a closet.

Stiles stepped inside, blending in with the shadows in his head-to-toe black outfit. Yanking a torch out from his belt, he switched it on and shoved it in his mouth, clamping down with his teeth to hold it steady.

It let out a beam of light, illuminating a metal safe which reached his waist. Crouching down, he unlooped the stethoscope from where it was hanging around his neck, and attached it next to the number lock.

He cocked his head slightly as he placed the other ends of the stethoscope into his ears. He cracked his shoulders.

“Okay, you’ve got three minutes to crack the safe, and then two minutes for extraction. We need to be out of here in five before the alarm resets.” There was a pause from Lydia. Then a faint, “You can do this Stiles.”

Stiles’ didn’t reply, already concentrating and beginning to try different combinations, listening carefully to the ticking sound of the locks as they slid around.

They’d narrowed down the possible combinations already, based on patterns of past lock codes used by their mark, but there was still a high possibility that they could be wrong.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Stiles kept turning and twisting the knob, waiting for the right combination.

“One minute left Stiles.” Lydia’s clipped voice said faintly from where Stiles’ com lay on the floor.

He felt his heart beat a little faster.

Stay calm, he told himself. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

He closed his eyes briefly. Then, he opened them with a fierce determination.

He strained his ears to listen.

Tick. Tick. Grind.

His unfocused eyes snapped back to the safe and he dropped his hand to the handle.

Holding his breath, he spun it.

It opened with a click.

He grinned in shock as the door opened to reveal a vase in the shape of an eagle, it’s wings stretched out wide, as though preparing for flight. Made during the Baroque period, it was pure gold and probably weighed a ton.

He reached out triumphantly, tensing his muscles as he prepared to lift the heavy antique.

Only to almost smash it into the roof of the safe.

What the-? It was definitely supposed to be heavier than that. Instead, it seemed as light as a … as a plaster cast.

Realisation dawned on him just as Allison’s voice came over the com.

“Uh guys? I think we have a problem.”

In the distance, Stiles heard the sound of a car revving to life and speeding off.

He looked down in the safe to see a card sitting peacefully, innocently, at the bottom. A howling wolf.

He looked up slowly, murderously.

“Hale.” He growled.

There was a sound behind him as Kira ran up, carrying their own carefully crafted replica of the vase. “Stiles? What’s going on?”

“Hale’s Camaro just pulled away,” informed Allison. “And the blonde and curly one was carrying a rather large black bag that was suspiciously Eagle shaped.”

“Guys, Fat Controller is on the move. I repeat, Fat Controller is on the move.” Scott said. “He’ll be there in 10, bimbo in tow. So unless you wanna see the worst live sex tape in the history of ever, I’d move out.”

Stiles grabbed the card, shoving it in his pocket as he reached over the take their replica vase from Kira. He carefully placed it in the safe, locked it and stepped out. The painting swung shut behind him.

“Let’s go.” He growled to Kira. They hurriedly made their way out, Hale’s replica swinging from his hand.

“Alarm’s back on in fifty seconds guys. I’m moving out,” said Lydia.

Stiles and Kira jumped into the car

Allison was waiting in the car in the main courtyard. Stiles and Kira clambered in and Allison took off, screeching down the circular driveway. They zoomed past the front gates which Lydia was holding open, stopping for the slightest of seconds to let her jump in, before taking off again.

They sat in silence as they made their way down the road, past the other fancy mansions.

Stiles squeezed the replica vase angrily, feeling the plaster give way and begin to crumble under his fingers.

Kira threw glances at him from across the seat, but remained quiet.

He continued to crush the vase.

~~~

“What the hell Hale?” Stiles raged as he stormed into the alleyway. The light was dusky, as the last ray so the sun faded away, but before the night had yet to fill the air. “That vase was _my target_! We’ve been planning for _months!_ ”

Derek straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the brick wall.

He looked sinfully good, dressed in dark distressed jeans, one of his many black leather jackets hanging off his shoulders. Stiles could see the full moon beginning to rise faintly over his shoulder. Give him a pair of wings and he could be an avenging angel.

No. Do not get distracted, Stiles told himself. Hale took your vase. You are angry at him, remember?

Yeah, Stiles definitely hadn’t forgotten just quite yet.

Stile was now a mere foot away from Hale, looking up ever so slightly to meet his eyes. They were almost the same height, but Hale had that slight inch extra over him.

“I thought we had an agreement!? Why the hell are you suddenly breaking it now? It was benefiting all of us!”

“Stilinski.” Derek nodded curtly. But he was smirking, ever so slightly. Stiles could see that little uptick at the corner of his mouth.

He narrowed his eyes. “What? That’s all you got to say? We let you have that Swarovski collection last month. That should have lasted you for at least half a year! No, I _know_ for a fact that you guys made at least 10 million. There’s no way you could have spent it all already!”

Derek remained unimpressed and stoic, arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging.

No! Bad Stiles. Back on task. He stole your vase, remember?

“So what did you need the vase for, huh? That was worth nothing compared to those diamonds! A couple mill at most.”

Derek sighed. “We had a previous client approach us, offered us a large sum to get him the vase.”

“And so you just decided to go in and steal it, without telling me?” Stiles threw his arms up.

“Well, yes, Stiles. We are criminals after all.”

“We have _a deal!_ We _negotiate_ who gets which priceless antique items. But what is the point if you don’t uphold it? Remember before? When we would turn up to the same places, go for the same marks. And we would waste resources, time and money and inevitably only one of us would get the prize. Our arrangement has meant that we don’t waste anything, and we get an even split of the goods available out there. So what gives!?”

“We had a client,” Derek began again.

“Well we had a whole bunch who were going to bid an exuberantly high price for this vase!”

“Our client is offering more than any of your bidders could ever propose. Trust me.”

“You don’t know that,” said Stiles hotly.

Derek’s smirk merely grew. “I was just making sure the vase got appreciated for its true value with a nice, large, hefty sum of money.”

Stiles wanted to wipe that smug look right off Derek’s face. Possibly with his mouth. Okay, preferably with his mouth. He could think of plenty of things he’d like to do to Derek’s gorgeous face.

Stiles! He mentally slapped himself.

“Well you should have consulted me first! We could have worked an agreement. You give us a cut of the price, and everyone goes home happy!”

“And you would have agreed to that?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Okay, probably not. But still!”

They stared at one another. By now, the red light had bled out from the air, the dumpsters and stairwells in the alleyway quickly becoming shadows.

“Then I want the emerald tiara heist. And I want no interference whatsoever from you.” Stiles demanded expectantly, glaring defiantly at Derek.

Derek, standing face to face with Stiles, mere inches between them, narrowed his eyes.

“No.” Derek sneered at him and took a step forward. “You’ll just have to get there first.”

Stiles took a step back.

“Does our deal mean nothing to you at all? What happened to all that honour thy word bullshit you went on about at the start?”

“Well it’s too bad I’ve decided-“ Another step forward from Derek, and a step back from Stiles. “-that I’ve had enough with our deal.”

Stiles went to take another step back, but found himself flat against the wall behind.

“Is that so?” It meant to come out snarkily, but unfortunately ended up being soft and a bit shaky.

Come on Stiles, get it together. It was hard though, when he had all 6 feet of muscled hunk practically pressed up against him.

Derek leaned forward, lips brushing Stiles’ ear.

“That’s right. I find you… immature and an amateur. Easily distractible and all too often misses. the. obvious.”

His breath was hot on Stiles’ neck.

Stiles swallowed. “Uh…” he managed eloquently.

He shuddered slightly as he felt Derek’s large hands come to rest on his hips, holding him firmly, fingers pressing into his waist.

Stiles’ hands were still plastered flat to the wall even as he felt his legs begin to falter. Only Derek’s body pressed against his was supporting him now.

Derek turned his head slowly, dragging his nose along Stiles’ cheek, lips ghosting over Stiles’ jaw.

He stopped just over Stiles’ lips.

“Got it?” he breathed huskily.

And suddenly he was gone, striding away into the night.

Stiles remained frozen, feeling the cold air flood his body whilst his eyes followed Derek’s retreating figure. Well mostly his ass. In his defense, it was a great ass.

What the hell just happened?

~~~

“Right, everyone listen up. This next heist is going to take a lot of careful and precise planning, not to mention a flawless execution. But we can do it. I believe in us!” Stiles punctuated his last statement with a punch into the air.

He lowered his hand slowly at the withering looks of his team.

Lydia was perched on her stool, looking mildly interested. Scott and Kira were lounging on the loveseat by the wall, whilst Allison was cleaning her bow.

He wishes he could say that they had an awesome super secret hideout in which they planned all their miraculous heists, but the reality was that they were in the basement of Scott and Kira’s house, which was sparsely decorated and with only just enough furniture to seat all five of them.

You’d think, being criminals who made millions each year, that they’d be able to afford a super sweet hangout/planning space. But Scott and Kira said they were saving their share to ‘pay off our mortgage’ and ‘putting it in our superannuation so we have enough to live comfortably when we’re old and grey.’

Seriously. Stiles’ gang were the most boring criminals in existence.

Lydia spent her money on designer clothes and handbags, whilst Allison actually donated most of it to various children’s charities.

And Stiles? Well no-one really knew what Stiles did with his money. That was for him alone to know.

“Just tell us what it is already,” said Lydia. “You’ve had your dramatic pause. It did not have the desired effect, but you had your chance. Now just go on.”

He narrowed his eyes at her sass but obeyed.

“The famed 18th century Emerald Tiara,” he announced with jazz hands.

Kira perked up. “You mean the one which Louis XVI supposedly had made for his betrothed, who then ran away with it and was never seen again? I’m in!” She clapped her hands eagerly.

“And where is it currently kept, Stiles?” pressed Lydia.

“Ah, well, that is where the challenge comes in. But challenges are what make our life fun and exciting, am I right?”

No-one replied.

“Fine, it’s in the Legion of Honour museum.”

Eyebrows around the room went up.

“The one with 24/7 security and guard surveillance?”

“The one with laser beam alarms you have to contort yourself through?”

“The one that releases sleeping gas when the doors lock down?”

“Yep! You got it!” replied Stiles enthusiastically.

“And how, pray tell, are we going to pull this off?” Allison had put her bow down and was looking inquisitively at Stiles.

Stiles unrolled the blueprints on the table in front of him with a flourish. “Well…”

Well, he tried to.

It took him a few tries because the first time it just rolled back up, so he had to find some paperweights to hold the corners down.

“Well,” he started again a minute later, looking up at the unimpressed faces of his team. “This is how we do it.”

He uncapped a pen and started drawing, circling airways and vents, exits and entry points, elevator shafts, security cameras, rooms with the sleeping gas- the whole works.

The others clustered around him at the table, inputting their own plans and suggestions, bouncing ideas off one another.

“We have to find a way to get security clearance to the guard’s room, which will take a while, but Scott, you’re going to be in charge of that.” Scott nodded.

“Lydia and Allison are going to be the ones actually nicking the Tiara, whilst Kira and I will be on look-out, and will be disabling any sleeping gas dispensers.

“And one last thing- our deadline is in 6 weeks.”

Stiles’ words were met with indignant screeches from the rest of his team.

“Six weeks? For a heist this elaborate?” squawked Scott. “I’m sorry Stiles, but have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“Stiles, I hate to say this, but even you must know this is completely crazy.” Allison furrowed her eyebrows at him.

“She’s right,” added Kira. “We’re good, but not that good.”

The only person who stayed quiet was Lydia.

“We _can_ do it!” reiterated Stiles, punching a fist in the air. His team immediately cast doubtful looks at him.

“Why the sudden rush anyways?” Kira piped up.

“All will be revealed.” Stiles moved his hands in a mystical fashion whilst speaking in an ominous voice.

He was met once again with unimpressed looks.

“Seriously you guys? I feel so underappreciated all the time!” He dropped onto the couch theatrically. “But anyway, let’s start research.” He dragged his laptop towards him and opened it up.

Everyone began to busy themselves. Well, Allison began to gather intel about the museum, whilst Scott and Kira snuck out because ‘they were hungry,’ and ‘wanted to make a sandwich.’

Like they were fooling anyone, if the deadpan looks Allison, Stiles and Lydia gave them were anything to go by.

Soon Allison excused herself and left the room, leaving only Stiles and Lydia, who continued tapping away at her own laptop for a mere minute before giving up pretences and dropping down next to Stiles.

“Spill.”

“Spill what?” he asked innocently.

“The others may not have noticed, because they’re all brain-hared idiots whenever they’re not on a heist, but I’ve noticed you sneaking off.” Lydia tossed her hair. “You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think, especially for a seasoned criminal. Honestly, sometimes I question why I chose you idiots to start a criminal gang with. So spill? Where are you going?”

“If you’re such a good criminal, shouldn’t you know?” Stiles grinned cheekily. “Fine. I’ve been sneaking off to… see someone.” There, a perfectly legit reason, which even made Stiles sound like he had a love life. And better than admitting he was dealing with the enemy.

“Uh-huh.” She switched tracks. “So how did Hale know the exact time we would be at the house the other day?”

“I.. have no clue.” He shook his head widely. “He… just must be… very… intelligen- No, I can’t say it.” He drew his head back.

“No other possible way?” Lydia pressed.

“Nope. None at all. Stiles knows nothing about Hale and his ways.”

“Really? Because I noticed recently that we’ve been using some new techniques. Techniques which I’ve seen Hale and his gang use before.”

“I like to know our enemy?”

“You know the only reason we all hate Hale so much is because of the feud you started with him? You hate him, so we hate him.”

“Feud _I started?_ ” Stiles spluttered. “This was a group decision to rebel against Hale and his ragtag group of ‘criminals.’ He should know better than to mess with us!”

“Whatever you want to tell yourself sweetie.”

“He took half of our heists last year!”

“And usually in record time. And right before we got there. Almost like he was trying to show off, don’t you think?”

Stiles’ mind blanked. Lydia wasn’t really making sense right now. “Huh?”

“And did you pay any attention to _which_ heists he turned up on? The tapestry of two men getting married, that plate with two guys staring intently at each other?”

Stiles continued to blink at her, lost.

She stood up and patted him primly on the shoulder.

“You’ll figure it out eventually. Hopefully soon though, before we lose too many more marks to him. For the meantime, your secret is safe with me.” And with that she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving Stiles alone in the silent room, with only his thoughts and blueprints for company.

And that creepy elf Scott insisted on putting on the shelf.

“What?” he snapped at its judgemental gaze.

~~~

 “Anyways, we’ve only got an hour to pull this off, so let’s get going. Everybody know their parts?” Stiles questioned, looking around. “Right. Scott, you’re headed to the security room.” Scott was already decked out in the security guard uniform, a working ID tag dangling from his waist, freshly nicked off a guard earlier that morning.

“Lydia, Allison, you guys are grabbing the tiara- you know what to do.” They nodded and turned on their heels, scarily in sync, heading off towards their entry point.

“Right Kira, let’s get suited up.” 

They unzipped the bags and pulled out the gas masks, goggles and gloves. Quickly pulling them on, they threw the rest of the stuff back into the car and made their way towards their entry point.

“We are clear. Good to go,” came Scott’s voice over the com. There was a click as the door nearest to them unlocked.

Stiles nodded at Kira as they silently entered the museum, creeping their way along the corridors.

At the third right and second left, they ducked into the shadows, waiting for the security guard to pass. Then, they continued along the hallway, sticking close to the wall and avoiding the security cameras Scott hadn’t been able to control.

As they neared the Tiara room, Kira and Stiles split up, moving swiftly to where they knew the alarm emergency shut-off panels were. They worked to disable as many as they could, but unfortunately they were designed so at least one alarm stayed on at all times. Still, the less laser beams and pressure sensitive alarms for Lydia and Allison to get through, the better.

Once they’d tackled the alarms, they moved on to disabling the sleeping gas dispensers, which involved some careful manoeuvring up into the air vent systems. Together, they worked to jam the dispensers, quelling the threat of the sleeping gas.

“Falcon to Katniss. Falcon to Katniss.” Stiles hissed into the com.

“Stop calling yourself Falcon. No-one calls you Falcon. And don’t call me Katniss! I am not some love-torn lost girl.”

“Got it, Robin Hood.” Stiles could practically see Allison’s eye roll. “Anyways, the Fox and I have disabled all the gas dispensers in the immediate area, and all the alarms we planned for. You are good to go. Go get ‘em tiger!”

“On the move.”

Stiles and Kira carefully dropped back down out of the vents, narrowly making it out of the room before a security guard patrolled by.

They crept from shadow to shadow, nook to cranny as they waited by the Tiara room, where Allison and Lydia were hopefully artfully dodging beams and getting their gloved hands on that sweet sweet Tiara.

That was if Hale hadn’t already gotten there first.

They waited for a painful twenty minutes, still ducking around to avoid the frequent patrols, before the com sparked back to life.

“We got it. Beginning extraction now.” Lydia said primly.

“Yes!” Stiles hissed to himself. “Did you leave the card?”

“Yes, we left the card.” Stiles grinned, staring off dreamily into the distance as he imagined the shock on Hale’s face when he found the room empty, with merely his own Wolf card thrown at the bottom. Or rather, his improved Wolf card- Stiles had taken the liberty to add a moustache and angry eyebrows to it. He was nothing if not classy.

What? He may steal million-dollar art, but doesn’t mean he can create it, sue him.

Stiles and Kira began to make their way back out of the winding maze of corridors, heading back outside.

Scott should be waiting in the getaway car, and Lydia and Allison would meet them there shortly, Tiara in tow.

At the fourth left turn and third right turn, Stiles heard muffled yells and scrambling sounds. Frowning, he tilted his head, searching the source of the noise.

Kira paused and looked back at him, noticing his hesitation.

“Go on. I’ll catch up,” he mouthed. She frowned, looking worried, shaking her head slightly.

“Go!” he mouthed again. “I’ll be fine, okay?”

She looked at him for a moment longer, before giving an almost imperceptible nod and moving forward again.

He really should go with her, he knew. He really should stick to the plan.

But he’s never been one for rules and order- he was always game for a bit of spontaneity.

Also, those grunts sounded awfully familiar.

He headed towards the noise, pausing at the corner. He carefully peered around the corner, letting only the tip of his nose be seen.

His eyes widened at the sight.

Hale was struggling under two burly guards, who had him pinned to the floor. His legs were wrapped around one of their waists, trying to flip him over. His two hands were pressed firmly over the mouths of the guards, effectively cutting off their yells for backup.

Stiles could see their radios lying on the floor a few feet away from them.

“Scully. Hitchcock. What’s going on?” A voice cracked from the radio.

Stiles curled his hands into fists and looked up at the ceiling.

He really shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

And then he sprinted into the room, yanking the radio off the floor.

“This is Scully,” he said in a deep voice. “Everything is fine. Just dropped my watch, trying to find it.”

“Don’t be late for your next check-in.” Then the radio clicked off.

Hale was still struggling on the floor and Stiles ran over, pulling one of the guys off of him.

He delivered an upper cut to the guard’s jaw followed by a winding punch to his stomach. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the guard’s swinging first, and instead hooked a leg around the back of his knees, knocking him flat on his back.

Stiles gave a brief mental apology before bringing his hand down across the man’s face, effectively knocking him out and rendering him unconscious.

Bang!

A loud noise startled Stiles and he whipped around to see the other guard hold his smoking gun, pointed straight at Hale. Hale, who was now staring at shock at the bullet embedded in his chest, inches from his heart, and at the blood beginning to blossom out of the wound.

Stiles didn’t think. He just acted.

He dove at the guard’s legs, bowling him over and knocking his arm enough to derail his next shot, which instead hit the wall behind.

He kicked the gun out of the guard’s hands and swiftly rendered him unconscious, digging his fingers into the man’s pressure spots.

A pained gasp emanated from Hale.

“Derek!” he said frantically as alarms began to wail. “Shit, you’re bleeding. We need to get you out of here right now. Okay, can you stand?”

Stiles bent down and loped Derek’s arm around his shoulders, grunting as he pulled them both up.

“Wait,” hissed Derek. He leaned down and grabbed a ornate golden plate depicting two Greek guys passionately kissing. “Okay, now we can go.”

Stiles stared at him incredulously. In the background, the alarms seemed to blare louder, knocking them both back into action.

“What the hell were you going there?” muttered Stiles as they ran awkwardly towards the exit, him still supporting Derek. “That wasn’t anywhere near the Tiara room.”

“Got distracted,” was Derek’s reply.

“By what? That plate?”

Derek was silent for a beat. “Yes.” Another beat. “It’s a gift for someone.”

Stiles sniggered. “For who? Your boyfriend? And that was worth giving up a shot at the Tiara for? Tut tut, Derek, your team is going to be disappointed. I thought you said you didn’t like people who got distracted anyways.”

“Shut up.”

The sound of clattering footsteps behind them urged them to sprint forwards faster.

“Stiles! Stiles! Where are you?” Scott’s urgent voice came through the com. Stiles must have accidentally silenced it before. “We had to leave because there were guards nearby, but we’re coming back to pick you up man. Where the hell are you?”

“How’d you get here?” Stiles asked Derek.

“Motorcycle.”

“Is it nearby?”

“Just… out the… back..” He panted.

“Hey, hey, stay with me buddy.”

Stiles spoke into the com. “I’ll be alright, you guys go. I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

They rounded the corner only to find themselves faced with a line of armed guards, all with their guns raised directly at them.

They skidded back and Stiles yanked them down another corridor, one which he could a door at the end of.

They ran down and shoved open the door, eyes adjusting to the dim night light. Stiles spotted a black motorcycle parked nearby and headed in that direction.

Swinging himself over, he felt Derek clamber on behind him.

He turned back. “You going to be alright to hold on tight? Not going to go flying off the back?”

Derek nodded tersely. Stiles could feel a damp patch on his shoulder blade as Derek’s wound continued to bleed.

“Okay.”

They took off, revving loudly as they sped down small alleyways and winding roads, ensuring that they lost themselves in the streets, amongst the other motorbikes.

After 45 minutes, just as the chill was starting to get to Stiles, he heard Derek’s voice from behind, close to his ear.

“34th on Rogerson St.”

“What?” Stiles yelled back.

“That’s my address. Take me there. I’ve got supplies which I can clean myself up with.”

He felt Derek grip his waist tighter as Stiles suddenly jerked the bike to the left. Still sticking to small, camera-less alleyways, Stiles wove them in and out until they pulled up at a tall apartment block.

Parking, he hopped off and waited expectantly.

“Thanks,’ said Derek gruffly. When Stiles continued to wait, he added “I’ve got it from here.”

“Nu-uh buddy. You got shot, near the heart. You need medical attention and I am not leaving you alone here in this dingy neighbourhood.”

“This ‘dingy neighbourhood’ is where I live you asshole. And I’ve been shot before- I know how to take care of myself, so you can go now.”

“The bullet could have hit a major artery.”

“Then I’d have bled out half an hour ago you idiot. I’m fine.” With that, he brushed past Stiles and headed towards the apartment.

Stiles followed.

~~~

In the apartment, Derek had dragged out his first aid kit from where it was stashed under the couch, and was now leaning over the dining table, attempting to extract the bullet from his chest.

Stiles watched him, a little horrified. “Dude! People eat there,” he exclaimed. “Couldn’t you perform your emergency surgery somewhere else? I don’t know, maybe, like, the bathroom, like the rest of us do?”

Derek remained quiet, instead focusing on twisting the forceps a little deeper, grunting at the sharp twinge of pain that shot up.

Stiles was quiet and still for only a beat longer before he strode over to Derek.

“It is physically hurting _me_ watching you try to do that yourself.” He rolled his sleeves up and grabbed an abandoned pair of tweezers lying on the table. “Let me help.” He waited until Derek had removed his own forceps again before batting his hand away.

“You know it’s better and safer when someone else does this,” he muttered as he began to gently insert the tweezers.

Derek gripped the edges of the table as Stiles prodded around his chest. He had one firm, steadying hand holding Derek’s shoulder, and his face was furrowed in concentration as he wiggled the tweezers around.

Derek drew in a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” muttered Stiles, eyes flicking up briefly to meet Derek’s. Genuine concern was plastered there, which momentarily took Derek aback.

There was another burst of heel-digging pain and Stiles pulled out the tweezers triumphantly, a bloody piece of glinting metal squeezed between the ends.

“Aha gotcha you little bastard!” he exclaimed to the piece of metal. He dropped it into a small dish laying on the table and wiped his hands on a nearby towel.

Derek turned around and leaned against the table whilst Stiles went and wet a cloth. When he returned he began to dab at Derek’s bare chest, gentle fingers cleaning away the blood. They stood in silence as he worked, Stiles’ gaze set firmly on Derek’s chest, avoiding his eyes. Derek looked around the room, occasionally coming back to glance down at this man who was taking care of him.

The sound of a beeping truck in the distance and the squawking of a scattering flock of birds was all that interrupted the silence.

Stiles dropped the cloth and picked up a small bottle, pouring some of its contents onto a cotton swab. “This is gonna sting,” he warned quietly.

Derek braced himself, but still gritted his teeth and threw his head back as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with his skin, stinging and burning.

Stiles then began to deftly unwrap the gauze patches, cutting up tape and carefully covering the wound. He patted the edges a few times to ensure they would stay, before stepping back and dropping his hands back down to his sides.

“All done, big guy.” He glanced down at the ground, away from Derek.

‘Stiles,” Derek said quietly, straightening up. Stiles looked back up to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

Stiles made as if to shrug it off. “No biggie,” he muttered.

“Stiles,” Derek repeated again, seriously. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but you did.”

Stiles shrugged again, uncomfortable. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off. “Not that this hasn’t been a thrilling conclusion to an already exciting evening, I’m probably going to head off now.” He turned around, ready to move towards the door.

“Stay.” The words were quiet, yet loaded.

Stiles stilled. He looked back over his shoulder at Derek, to see his soft, inviting expression.

The night had already taken a very unexpected turn- he’d willingly taken Derek home, cleaned him up, and now Derek was asking Stiles to stay.

“Okay,” he agreed after a moment of hesitation, turning back around.

And then they sort of just stared at each other.

In a bid to avoid any more strange and awkward interaction with none other than Derek Hale, he turned around, moving to inspect the rest of the room.

In the living room was a collection of fine art, no doubt all stolen. Stiles recognised a few from houses and museums he himself had stolen from. It was a reminder of both their feud and the deal they had shared.

He trailed his fingers lightly over a mantelpiece Greek sculpture of two guys entwined in one another, arms holding one another close. Next to that was an abstract modernist painting of two men gazing into each other longingly, yet separated by a whirlwind of bright yellows and reds. Beside that was a lamp, patterned with images of- you guessed it- guys kissing.

Stiles frowned and swept a cursory glance over the rest of the room. It was filled with similarly styled art.

It was all rather… homoerotic.

He looked up to see Derek watching him intently.

“You like them?”

Stiles swallowed. “Uh, yeah. They’re all very… unique,” he settled on.

“They’re mostly for someone else. I think he’ll appreciate them very much.”

“The boyfriend, right.” He nodded sourly, remembering.  “Look I should really go-“

Derek walked forward, ignoring him. “Not yet.”

He stopped in front of Stiles. “So do you like them?” he asked quietly.

His eyes widened. “Do _I_ like them?”

Derek nodded, grinning.

He glanced around again. “Well, they’re okay, but it doesn’t really compare to the real thing, you know?” He rested a hand on Derek’s arm, eyes searching Derek’s. “Especially when you’ve got this masterpiece in front of you.”

Derek leaned down minutely. “Do you want to know why I stole all of your marks?” he murmured.

Stiles leaned up a fraction. “Because you were peacocking you jackass. The criminal equivalent of pulling my pigtails. Which, for future reference, is not the best way about telling someone you have feelings for them. Do you know how much I hated you? How much I still hate you?”

“Well it worked didn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed. He leaned up that fraction more, closing the gap and pressing his lips to Derek’s.

Derek kissed him back hotly, tilting his head and running his hands up Stiles’ back.

Stiles leaned back. “I still hate you,” he hissed.

Derek pulled him back, pressing open mouthed kisses along Stiles’ jaw. “No you don’t,” he rumbled.

Stiles grabbed Derek’s jaw, bringing him back to meet his mouth.

“Just a little.”

They shut up after that, too focused on kissing each other senseless.

When Derek started pushing them backwards towards the bedroom, Stiles broke off.

“You got shot. We are not doing anything extraneous tonight.”

Derek grunted and continued on their path.

Stiles shrugged. It counts if he tried, right? To be fair, it was only a half-hearted suggestion. Parts of Stiles were definitely ready to get it on tonight.

The back of his legs hit the bed and he let himself fall backwards. Derek crawled over him, kissing him again, but this time slower, more languid. Stiles arched up into it, hand curling in Derek’s hair.

Then he rolled onto his side and pulled Stiles flush against him, his body curling around Stiles’.

He nuzzled Stiles’ neck, kissing him lightly.

“Uh, dude, I’m all for cuddling, like seriously down for it, but I don’t know if this is going to work when your boner is pressing against my ass. Like my body is getting mixed messages here.”

Derek merely continued to nuzzle Stiles’ neck.

They were quiet for a while.

“So does this mean our archnemesis relationship is over?” asked Stiles a while later.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Well...” In his mind, Stiles considered the idea of keeping Derek a secret from the pack a little longer. He figured though that they’d put up with enough of their feud. Besides, he was pretty sure he’d seen Allison looking interestedly at Isaac on numerous occasions.

“I think we could be doing much more interesting things with our relationship, don’t you?” he replied.

Derek pulled him closer and wrapped his arms tighter around Stiles’ waist in response.

“We’ve only just begun.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
